


Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

by everydaytomholland



Series: Pangs [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Illnesses, Medical Inaccuracies, Near Death Experiences, Other, Spider Bite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaytomholland/pseuds/everydaytomholland
Summary: Apparently when your entire DNA is being changed, it takes a bit of a toll on your body.





	Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, two in one day... I'm procrastinating from doing uni work so blame that. Each work in this series is completely unrelated from the others unless otherwise stated.
> 
> Title comes from the David Bowie song, 'Changes'
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter Parker was a science nerd. No ifs, ands, or buts. He loved understanding how things worked.

Although biology was probably his least favourite part of science, he could think of worse ways to spend his day than at Oscorp’s research facility for a field trip. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d much rather spend the day at Stark Industries than Oscorp but SI doesn’t really do that sort of thing. Although maybe he could write them a letter and suggest it now that Mr Stark is busy with the Avengers and Pepper Potts was running the company; she seemed cool.

While biology was by no means his favourite, it still came easily to him so, unlike his peers, he spent most of his time looking around each room they were in, rather than fervently taking notes for their upcoming test. Currently they were looking at Oscorp’s research on GMOs. Peter wondered if they were looking into the super soldier serum. Every biotech company in the world had been doing their own research on it in some capacity up until a few years ago when the whole thing with Bruce Banner happened. Peter wouldn’t be surprised if Oscorp was still doing research on the downlow though. Banner was, ironically enough, the only biologist Peter liked – and it had nothing to do with the Hulk either – he’d read all of Banners papers and found him to be very innovative and clever. He was basically the only reason Peter didn’t completely hate biology.

“Are we still on for this weekend?” Ned asked him as they moved to a different part of the facility, where researchers were looking at genome sequencing for medical trials. Peter smiled at him.  
“Yeah man, gotta work on that Lego TARDIS! Uncle Ben said he’d drop me off on his way to work, I’m still okay to sleep over?”  
“Dude, of course! You know my mom loves it when you come over!”  
“Awesome!”

10 minutes later they were listening to a scientist give a really boring talk about genomes when Peter felt a small but sharp pain on the back of his left hand. He looked at it and saw that a small spider had bitten him between his thumb and forefinger. He brushed it onto the ground and watched it scurry away. He was going to say something to their teacher but it didn’t hurt anymore and the spider hadn’t even drawn blood. It was forgotten within minutes.

When Peter when to bed that night, he noticed that the bite on the back of his hand was surrounded by a small, red rash and was mildly painful when he poked at it. He figured that if the spider had been venomous, it would’ve killed him already; but he resolved to tell May in the morning if it was still painful.

Peter felt like crap when he woke up. He was hot and clammy and his head felt all stuffy; it was like a bad flu. He slid his glasses on and looked at his hand. It was completely fine. Was he already sick yesterday and just imagined a spider biting him? Probably. He went out into the kitchen to find May and Ben. They smiled when they saw him walk in the room but May immediately frowned. He went and sat next to her on the couch, resting his head on her shoulder. He’s exhausted from the day already. 

“I think you need to stay home today, Pete.” She said softly.  
“What? No, I’ve got plans. Ned-“  
“Ned will understand. You’re clearly sick Peter, I can feel the heat radiating off you already. Why don’t you head back to bed and text Ned to reschedule for next weekend and I’ll make you breakfast in bed?” He smiled at her weakly and did as she said. As she predicted, Ned was understanding, just hoped that Peter felt better soon. May brought him in some toast and orange juice as well as Tylenol and a thermometer. His temperature was 101.3F and he’d be lying if he didn’t feel a little miserable. 

Ben checked in on his way out the door for work and promised that if Peter felt better when he got home they could rewatch the original Star Wars trilogy that night. Peter tried watching Doctor Who on his laptop but it was too loud and too bright for his sore head so he spent most of the day sleeping. Ben brought him his evening Tylenol and did a temperature check, 102.4F, he stroked his hair gently until he fell back asleep.

Peter felt worse in the morning. His temperature was 102.9F and the Tylenol didn’t seem to be helping. Ben helped him take a cold bath at around lunch time and he actually felt somewhat better for about an hour and a half. But the relief was short lived and the fever came back with a vengeance. Between his still pounding head and the fever, he could barely focus on anything and felt delirious. May had made a doctor’s appointment for him the following afternoon but knew she’d have to take him into the ER if his fever got much worse. She checked his temperature before she went to bed, 103.7, and set an alarm to check it again at 2am. 

When she turned on his bedroom light at 2am, she could tell just by looking at him that his fever was worse. He was a very bright red and a visible sheen of sweat covered his body. She touched his forehead and winced at how hot it was. She put the thermometer in his ear and waited.

105.1F.

She wasn’t sure she read that right.

105.1F. Shit. She tried shaking Peter awake but he didn’t respond with more than a whimper.  
“BEN!” she yelled. He ran into the room moments later, “His temperature’s up to 105 and I can’t wake him up, call the ambulance!” He paled visibly at that information and then left to make the call.

It felt like an eternity had passed when the paramedics arrived. They’d put cold cloths on Peter’s forehead and underarms but it didn’t seem to be doing much. The paramedics asked them a few questions which Ben answered while May watched them put an IV into Peter’s arm and an oxygen mask on his face. Before long they were heading out to the ambulance while some of their neighbours watched, looking horrified. May paid them no attention while she climbed silently to sit in the back of the ambulance with Peter while Ben got in the front. 

The hospital was a whirlwind. Doctors and nurses whisked Peter away faster than May could keep up. A kind young nurse asked them questions about how Peter had been feeling in the last week, most of which Ben answered. May was surprised that she was feeling so overwhelmed by the hospital when she worked there. She supposed it was different when you’re the concerned parent. She’d been in with Peter once before when he’d gotten his appendix out when he was 7 but that had been much less emergent.

A doctor came to speak to her and Ben soon after. She told them they were doing as much as they could for Peter right now but they were going to run some tests to try and figure out the cause of his illness. Ben signed the consent forms while she quickly checked in on him before the nurses whisked him away again. It was scary seeing him in a hospital bed but he was sleeping and despite the oxygen mask, he looked more peaceful than he had at the apartment. 

It was about 6am when she realised she should probably let Ned know. The two boys usually met on the way to school and walked the rest of the way together, she didn’t want him to wait for Peter only for him to not show up. She looked at her phone and saw that the boy had texted her just 10 minutes earlier:  
‘Hi May. I’m guessing Peter’s still sick and not coming to school coz he never text me back yesterday. Hope he feels better soon and tell him to text me back when he feels up to it’  
‘Hi Ned. We had to take Peter to the hospital last night because he’s not feeling too good. He’s sleeping right now but I’ll make sure he gets your message x’  
‘Oh, ok. I’ll collect his homework for him so he doesn’t fall behind.’  
‘Also my mom says to call her if you guys need anything.’  
‘I will, thanks honey x’

Peter’s temperature had been 105.6F when they arrived at the hospital the previous night. By mid-afternoon it was up to 106.7F. May knew that fevers were good up until a point, it meant the body was still fighting what was making it sick, but Peter’s fever was fast approaching the point where it would do more harm than good. The doctor tapped her on the shoulder, startling her from staring at Peter’s face and stroking his sweaty hand.  
“I’m sorry Mrs Parker but this is important,” May was hoping they’d have the results of some of the tests they’d taken hours earlier, “do you know if Peter was suffering from a sore neck at all?” Not what she was expecting.  
“I don’t think so, he said he had a headache but didn’t mention his neck at all.”  
“Well we didn’t do this initially because you didn’t mention it but we’re running out of ideas, we want to give him a CT and lumbar puncture to test for meningitis.”  
“Meningitis? You think it’s that serious?”  
“Honestly, we don’t know. He has a few of the symptoms but more than anything we want to rule it out. We’d like to take him right away.” May nodded her head numbly and within 5 minutes they’d wheeled him out the door.

Peter was unconscious but they still gave him the local anaesthetic, just in case. He was in the CT machine when his body started jerking; he was having a febrile seizure. It was uncommon in someone his age but with his fever so high it made sense. After he’d finished seizing, they checked his temperature again, it was at 107.4F.

A nurse found May and Ben in the cafeteria and brought them to a small, private room. They held each other’s hands nervously as they waited for the doctor to join them. She came in and looked grim.  
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Peter’s prognosis isn’t great.” Tears had already started filling up May’s eyes, she could tell that the usually stoic Ben wasn’t doing much better.  
“Is it meningitis?” He asked quietly, voice thick with emotion.  
“No, the lumbar puncture was clear. But Peter had a seizure in the middle of the procedure. Because the fever is so high, it’s putting his brain under a lot of stress. His temperature got up to 107.4F. We’ve had to put him in an induced coma,” May gasped loudly, tears falling freely now, “the good news is that he’s tough, and something in him is still fighting this. The coma will help relieve some of the extra stress on his body but unfortunately if his fever gets much higher his organs will start to fail and there won’t be much we can do at that point.”  
“I-I knew it was more than a flu,” May spoke, “I should’ve brought him in earlier.”  
“No, you did the right thing and frankly I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. He’s here now and that’s what matters. We’ve moved him to the ICU so there’ll be someone in the room constantly and we’re going to keep monitoring his brain activity. He’s getting the best possible care, the rest is up to him.”

For the next two days, Ben and May sat vigil by Peter’s side. His temperature didn’t change much, it thankfully didn’t get any higher, but it didn’t drop below 107F either. There was still brain activity too, it was minimal but it was definitely there. She and Ben only left his bedside once each day (separately) to go home and shower, they didn’t leave for any other reason but the nurses were very kind about it, bringing them meals and coffee throughout the day.

When May woke up Wednesday morning, something felt off. Ben had already gone home to shower. She stood up and stretched, uncomfortable from sleeping in an awkward position all night. Then she realised what had been off. Peter was cold. She panicked for a minute until she realised that the ventilator, as well as the other monitors on him, were still working. She felt his forehead and realised that he was colder than he had been in days, but definitely still warm; she started to cry with relief because his fever had finally broken.

Within just a couple of hours, Peter was strong enough that he could be extubated. Doctors seemed to be optimistic about Peter’s recovery, it would just be a matter of assessing his brain function when he woke up. The first time he woke up, almost 12 hours after his fever broke, his hands twitched in May’s slightly, he’d groaned and opened his hazy eyes briefly before falling back asleep. This happened several more times throughout the night before he finally woke up late Thursday morning. 

Peter didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was feeling sick and Ben sitting with him on Saturday night. Was that last night? He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Everything was fuzzy but it was slowly gaining more clarity. He could feel a soft, warm hand in his, its owner resting their head on his lap. There was something over his mouth and nose, an oxygen mask? The more he woke up the more he became aware of. He could feel the scratchy sheets that didn’t belong to his bed, the mattress was too hard too. He could smell the pure oxygen pumping through the mask on his face. He could hear the loud beeping of what he assumed was a heart monitor beside him. It was too loud. Everything was too loud. He pried his heavy eyes open only to shut them immediately with a groan; too bright. The person leaning on his lap lifted their head; “Pete?” it was May, he winced at how loud her voice was, “Honey, can you hear me? Squeeze my hands?” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. He could hear the thick emotion in her voice, “can you open your eyes for me?”  
“Bright,” he responded, “too loud.” Everything was too intense, like all of his sense were dialled to eleven.  
“Ben,” she was, thankfully, whispering, “turn the lights off and get the doctor.” He left the room. “Can you try opening your eyes again, honey?” she asked. He did. It was still too bright in the room, but having the lights off helped, it wasn’t as painful. He looked at his aunt and gave her a small smile. She lifted the oxygen mask off of his face and offered him a straw in a cup of water. He hadn’t noticed how dry his throat had been and he drank from the cup greedily. 

The relative peace was disturbed when the Ben came back in with the doctor. Thankfully, they didn’t turn the light back on, but the doctor was awfully loud. She shone a light in Peter’s eyes, checking his pupils. He winced at the sudden bright light, almost giving him an instant headache. “How are you feeling, Peter?” the doctor asked.  
“Tired. Everything’s too loud.” Wordlessly, she turned off the sound on the heart monitor. It was a big relief. He could still hear various noises throughout the ward and it was so loud, but he finally felt like he could focus.  
“Do you know why you’re here, Peter? What’s the last thing you remember?”  
“I’m sick? I remember feeling really gross on Saturday, I had a fever and I remember Ben giving me some Tylenol before bed. I’m not really sure after that.”  
“Well I can’t say I’m surprised, you were very sick when you came in. An ambulance brought you in on Sunday night, you had a very high fever. You had a seizure on Monday afternoon and we had to put you in a medically induced coma for a couple of days until your fever came down. You had us very worried for a minute there.” He was shocked. He knew that if he was sick enough to be waking up in a hospital bed that he must’ve gotten pretty bad but he didn’t expect this.  
“I- I don’t. What day is it?”  
“Thursday. Midday.” He was shocked.  
“What’s wrong with me?”  
“We couldn’t figure it out. We ran all kinds of test but couldn’t work out what was making you so sick. You seem to be doing much better though. We’ll keep monitoring you but you could be getting released as early as this weekend.”

He turned to look at May and Ben, finally taking in how wrecked they both looked.  
“I’m sorry.” May looked horrified for a minute before sweeping him up in a bone crushing hug.  
“Oh sweetie, you have nothing to apologise for. We’re just so glad you’re okay.” Ben looked close to tears in relief, sitting down and patting Peter on the leg. 

Peter felt really tired the rest of the day but he didn’t sleep much, he alternated between chatting quietly with Ben and May and dozing in his bed. He’d called Ned to let him know he was okay, promising they could catch up after he was discharged. He didn’t have much of an appetite, he assumed because he was so tired, but he managed to eat his entire dinner. He’d always heard that hospital food was tasteless but the food he had had a strong smell and flavour – it wasn’t necessarily good, but it was anything but flavourless. After dinner, he and the night nurse managed to finally convince Ben and May to go home for the night; it was clear, even before the nurse told him, that they hadn’t slept at home since he’d been admitted to hospital. The nurse promised to personally call them if his condition deteriorated at all. It had been fine though, while his sleep was restless with all the noises of the hospital, he felt stronger in the morning. Much stronger.

When Ben and May came back, May had brought his glasses from home. When he went to put them on though, his vision blurred. Huh, that was odd. He mentioned it to May and soon enough they had an optometrist in his room, doing an eye check.

They were all gobsmacked when the optometrist told him that his vision was 20/20. That couldn’t be right. He’d worn glasses since not long after his parents died. It wasn’t like he was almost blind, but his vision definitely hadn’t been good. When they spoke to the neurologist, he simply told them not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He said that the brain was a mysterious organ and it wasn’t unheard of for people to wake up from comas suddenly possessing great art skills or being fluent in a language they’d never spoken before.

Friday night they moved Peter into the regular ward. He was feeling pretty much completely better, though still a little tired, and was likely going to be discharged the following day. As he showered that night he noticed that he’d lost weight. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d been out long enough for it to have that kind of effect but apparently so. It wasn’t like he’d ever been fat but he’d previously had a layer of puppy fat still and his stomach was a little chubby. Now his muscles looked like they were getting some definition and- did his jaw line get sharper? This whole thing was weird. 

Shortly after rounds on Saturday morning, he was finally discharged. Despite the fact that he felt fine, May demanded that he stayed in bed for the rest of the weekend if he wanted to go back to school on Monday. Not wanting to argue, he agreed. Thankfully he was allowed to invite Ned over for a stress free sleep over; May said they weren’t allowed to do anything more strenuous than watch Star Wars which the boys happily obliged in.

Peter didn’t say anything to his aunt and uncle, not wanting to worry them, but his overly sensitive senses were still going haywire, though he was starting to adjust to all the input. At least, until he went to school on Monday. School was hard. For the first time in his life, Peter was thankful that he wasn’t popular, the only people that acknowledged his week long absence, apart from his teachers, were Ned, MJ, Liz and, unfortunately, Flash. But he was glad that so few people spoke to him directly, the noise of the corridors was already hard to deal with. By the time the final bell rang though, it had eased off considerably. 

Things were still loud on Tuesday but he found himself able to tune things out. The day passed without incident until it was time for gym. They started off having to run laps of the running track which he found… easy? That was weird, he wasn’t exactly athletic, and he never found running easy. He actually had to make a conscious effort to keep pace with Ned. And then they had to climb the rope in the gym and he made it about halfway up before realising that this too was far too easy. He had trouble getting down though. It was like he couldn’t make his hands let go. He completely loosened his grip but his hands were still holding on somehow. Eventually he managed to make his way down; by falling and banging his knee on the floor. Great, that’s going to bruise. The gym teacher excused him for the rest of the lesson in case he hurt himself, and sure enough there was a big purple bruise on his knee by the time the bell rang.

He expected May to comment on the bruise when he got home that afternoon but she said nothing. He thought it was odd until he looked down and saw that the bruise had almost completely disappeared; he could only really see it because he was looking for it. Weird. 

That was the same day that his appetite came back with a vengeance. He hadn’t really experienced any of the stereotypical teenage boy appetite before but now it seemed like he could never get full. This all culminated in him fainting in chemistry on Thursday afternoon. He didn’t think he even fully blacked out – one moment he was walking toward the teacher’s desk to ask something and the next he was sitting on the floor with his head between his knees – but it was enough to warrant a trip to the school nurse. May came running in not long after, clearly on the verge of panic, “Honey, are you feeling okay?”  
“I’m fine, May. My blood sugar’s just a little low.”  
“Your blood sugar? Are you not eating enough?”  
“I’m eating heaps but I still don’t feel full.” She sighed in relief.  
“You’re a growing teenage boy – you’re basically a human garbage disposal. I know you know money’s tight but just say something next time, we’re not going to let you starve.” She took his hand and they went home and shared an extra-large pizza.

Things got weirder over the weekend. He almost ripped his door off its hinges at least twice which thankfully went unnoticed, and when he was on his way over to Ned’s, some kicked a football that almost hit him in the face, but he caught it less than an inch away from his nose; he hadn’t even seen it coming until the last second. He didn’t say anything to anyone, but he knew he was going to have to experiment with whatever was going on, and soon.

The opportunity presented itself Monday afternoon, May and Ben were both working and Ned was grounded for talking back to his mom. On his way home from school he ducked into a secluded alleyway. The first thing he wanted to test was his increased strength. There was a broken, old couch sitting there so he figured why not? He lifted one side of it easily enough. Then he lifted the whole thing. It still didn’t feel particularly heavy, so he raised it above his head, and then let go with one hand. He was definitely freaked now. He didn’t want to test it further, but he was starting to think he might be getting really strong because, even with one hand, the couch still felt unnaturally light. Then he remembered gym class and how he couldn’t seem to let go of the rope. He figured he might as well test his grip too. So he started climbing the wall of the building next to him. He went next to the fire escape, just in case, but before he knew it he was on the roof. 

It wasn’t until an hour later, when he was sitting on the roof of a building not far from his apartment, that he remembered the spider bite. And with that the missing puzzle piece fell into place. It must’ve been a genetically modified spider and it must’ve- changed his DNA? It would explain why he got so sick with no other explanation. It would also explain, what he could only describe as, his newfound supernatural abilities. He couldn’t help but let out a yell of excitement.

For the next two weeks he let his imagination run wild. He designed a costume for his alter ego – which he had named Spider-Man – and, after a few rounds of trial and error, designed a synthetic web that he could shoot from a compartment on his wrist and swing around on. Sometimes, when he let his imagination get away from him, he pictured himself one day working with the Avengers. He didn’t let his imagination go too wild though, what would the Avengers want with a kid, especially after everything that had just happened in Sokovia. Also, when he thought back on the Battle of New York, he didn’t think he was quite ready to be facing aliens; maybe he’d stick to just Queens, at least for the time being.

It was just shy of a month after the spider had bitten him that he went out as Spider-Man for the first time. He didn’t do much that first outing, but it was exhilarating. He saved an old lady from being mugged. She thanked him and ran away while he webbed the guy to the wall and then called 911. He watched from a hidden perch near the roof as the NYPD came to arrest the guy. 

Peter was the one to post the first couple of Spider-Man videos on YouTube, but after he started gaining notoriety, other people were filming him every time he was spotted, so he stopped bothering. It wasn’t like he was busting big crime syndicates or anything, but he liked helping out the little guy. He went out as often as he could between school and home – only if both May and Ben were working – and he snuck out every night for an hour or two once he knew they were asleep (thank god for his enhanced hearing). He figured he’d tell them about Spider-Man one day but he knew they’d try and restrict him and for now he was having too much fun. 

After a couple of months he had established a steady routine, he should’ve known something would go wrong. 

He hadn’t meant to stay out so long after school that day, but there’d been several muggings to thwart and a cat stuck in a tree and a guy needed help changing his car tire. All Peter knew is that he saw the seven missed calls from Ben as he changed back into his regular clothes and knew he was in trouble. He didn’t even make it home though, he bumped into Ben on his way; his uncle had come out looking for him. Ben didn’t say much, other than a promise that they’d have a talk at home, but Peter could tell he was angry. Peter told him that he’d been studying at the library and his phone was on silent and he simply lost track of time; he wasn’t sure that Ben believed him. 

They stopped in at the grocery store to get things for dinner when everything went wrong. 

They were lined up, waiting for the register when the men walked in, one of them pointing a gun at the cashier and demanding that she give them all the money in the register. Peter was frozen. He knew he should do something. Hell, he still had one of his web shooters on his wrist, he knew he COULD do something, but he was just frozen. It wasn’t even like he was afraid of guns, not really. He’d been grazed with a bullet just a few weeks ago and it had completely healed overnight without issue. But he was Spider-Man then. Now he was just Peter Parker, and he was terrified. An icy chill ran down his spine when he heard Ben speak.  
“You don’t need to do this.” His voice was calm.  
“Shut up!” yelled one of the masked men.  
“If you just put down the guns, we won’t call the cops and we can work something out.” Ben remained calm.  
“I SAID SHUT UP!” the man repeated.  
“You don’t need to resort to this, there’s a better way.”  
“IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP NOW I’LL SHOOT THE KID!” the man repeated, gesturing to Peter. 

Ben took a step forward to stand in front of Peter. It was the wrong move.  
Three things happened in quick succession: there was a loud gunshot, the men ran from the store, and Ben fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Peter leaned down and put one hand on the growing patch of red on his uncle’s chest. The other hand was holding Ben’s. He heard someone calling an ambulance, but he knew it wasn’t good, Ben’s teeth were already red, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Peter didn’t know when he started crying, but he tried to stop when Ben sloppily tried to wipe away his tears.  
“Tell May… I love her,” Ben whispered, “and I love you Pete, so much.” Ben’s eyes slid shut before Peter could respond. 

He was already dead when the ambulance arrived. 

Peter didn’t even consider putting on his spidey suit for a couple of weeks after Ben died. Between planning a funeral and looking after May and his own mourning, he didn’t know if he would ever wear it again. It was because of Spider-Man that Ben was dead. 

It wasn’t until two and a half weeks after Ben died that he had a change of heart. 

There was a story of a young woman in a critical condition following a carjacking gone wrong. It was then that he realised that New York needed him.

When he was taking off the suit after patrolling the following night, he knew he’d made the right decision. He also knew that he could never tell May. At least, not for a long time, he couldn’t do that to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment letting me know what you think!
> 
> Follow/send prompts to my instagram @everydaytomholland :)


End file.
